Written by Backandtotheleft
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Thursday, 24 October 2013

It has been well documented that Back and to the Left news has a special relationship with X-Factor creator and eventual dark overlord of space and time, Simon Cowell.

Rumours have abounded about the internet that it was in fact a donation of sperm from our reporters that finally gave Simon what he had always wanted. A successor to his throne. We wont commentate on this vicious speculation, not as long as "The Great Beast" can afford better lawyers than us.

Simon has watched the dilapidated mess that his once all conquering weapon, the X-Factor, has become. In a sign that reeks of desperation he beat his leathery wings and flew through our office window and demanded a interview:

So Simon, long time no see! We've just managed to get the creaming of a thousand souls out of our minds since the last time we spoke to you. How you been?

Simon gives us no response as his eyes swivel at unholy angles taking in the state of our office. They fix on the back half of a dead fox that got stuck behind the radiator.

That is what shall happen to strictly!

His voice appeared in our minds but our ears swore they hadn't heard the words.

What?

They shall be crushed and left to rot, forgotten and unloved.

So what is your masterplan to wrest control of the ratings away from Strictly Come Dancing.

You could almost feel the temperature in the room drop as his eyebrows arched like demon possessed children.

I shall revamp the live shows.

We cringed at the word vamp.

How?

There is only one thing I can do. I must return to my throne on Saturday night TV and reclaim my followers.

That's nice Simon.

We could feel the tendrils of his powerful mind snaking there way through our thoughts, intertwining themselves with our fears, choking our hopes. In less than five minutes we went from happy go lucky drunks to largely depressed drunks.

Much like a Wednesday night actually.

Is there going to be any surprise twist in the show?

We felt a trickle of blood slip from our nose as his presence disrupted the very fabric of reality.

All shall vote or all shall suffer. An endless supply of barely talented karaoke singers will swamp the world in creative mediocrity. Once I am back in my throne all eye's will be on me.

When do you plan to put this into action.

The words came from our throats but seemed somewhat distant almost dreamlike.

Watch the show

And with that he was gone, a smoldering patch of ground and
the smell of sulphur the only things betraying his former presence. We sighed, not in relief but in comfort. The words in our mind repeating over and over.

Simon knows best.

Watch the show.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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